


Midnight in Paris

by IINermineII



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 14:30:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IINermineII/pseuds/IINermineII
Summary: Jennie is one peculiar individual. What will a night in Paris have in store for her? Or perhaps is it the other way around?





	Midnight in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> sup.  
> this is something i wrote. i dont think i'll be continuing it buuutt I must say ive enjoyed writing it. a lot.

At the entrance, a fountain of champagne and an other of cologne were placed, each at every side. Jennie looked around, perhaps astonished or confused or perhaps both, as she admired the ceiling and the statues at each corner and the high windows in the walls and the clean decorated floor. But she smiled nonetheless greeting those who passed by.

She tugged at her long sleeved white gloves and picked a glass from a tray just besides her. The sip she took was just enough to have her stand straighter and walk steadier, or at least that is what she thought would happen for she bumped into someone almost knocking her glass out of her hand. 

A hand grabbed her by the shoulder. The grip was tight and Jennie had to turn her attention from the almost soaked glove to the aching side.

“Do you have to act like a child?” Asked the woman letting go of the arm. 

Jennie huffed. “Maybe i should be asking the same question, my glove smells of champagne.” Her tone was serious and yet, it had a hint of silliness in it as she frowned and examined the not so white glove. “You were also supposed to be at the other side of the room might i remind you.” She added still deciding what to do with the cloth. 

The woman stepped aside. “I am aware. But it wasn't for you being so impressed by the fountains, I wouldn't have come all this way to wake you from your wonderful daydream.” The more words she whispered into Jennie’s ears, the faster her talking pace became and the angrier her tone sounded. 

Jennie handed her glass to a waiter and took off both of her gloves. She turned to the woman handing them to her. “Could you please go back and trust me?” 

She didn't whisper, only talked but her voice was low and so calm that the woman had no other choice but to go with her gentle yet demanding request.

She took the gloves with her and went on her way, leaving Jennie to breathe very deeply and head over to a table to sit. 

Most of the chairs were empty for everyone was busy dancing or chatting besides the buffet. 

An old woman was the only one sitting down, her husband at her side whom soon got up upon whispering in her ear. 

Jennie brought a chair to her and sat down. The old lady didn't seem bothered by her presence, that is, if she had noticed it in the first place for she seemed pleasantly contemplating the scene displayed in front of her. 

The young girl crossed her arms. It was a cold night and without her gloves, her fingers were freezing. As she stayed there for a while, she kept staring at a champagne glass on the table. It was full and it looked untouched but it felt wrong taking it, who knows who drank from it and why they had left it. 

Moments were spent that way, debating. She wanted to drink and yet she didn’t; her poor gloves were the victim of some clumsiness caused by champagne but tonight was a great night and life was worth living. 

“take it.” Said a voice, as if it has been hearing her monologue all along. She looked up and it was the old lady. 

“I want to,” Jennie replayed, “but i’d rather not. I think i have had enough champagne for tonight.” Upon those words, the old lady laughed which almost sounded as if she was coughing. 

“Young soul, pure but knows none of fun.” Said she shaking her head. 

Jennie looked at the glass again for a while then decided to take it and move to sit besides the elderly woman. 

“A young man brought it, planned on drinking it but love can’t wait.” she heard her mumble. 

Jennie wanted to ask her if she really felt that people fell in love during nights like these, at a ball or a party but she contented with bringing the glass to her lips and drinking. 

The taste was pleasant, sweet but dull. She didn't like it. She didn't like tonight nor the elderly woman. 

She turned her attention to Cathy whom she found chatting with a young woman her age. They were both laughing; occasionally one of them would touch the other by the shoulder or hand as if to emphasize the delightfulness one was having. 

From her deathly grip earlier, Cathy wasn't someone who appreciated people much and the feeling was reciprocated by others all because of her short temper and sharp glares she shot anyone who approached her. Yet, here she was, flirtatious as ever. 

Jennie sipped her champagne again shaking her head. She wanted the best for her friend but her shifting personality made it harder to understand her and Jennie understood everyone. 

“Have you seen my husband?” The older woman asked leaning closer. Jennie ignored her question, for some reason, frustrated. 

“I’m going to kill someone.” Said she instead. The response she got came awhile after, it was a soft ‘oh’. 

“Are you going to scream for help?” Asked Jennie calm as ever and the woman laughed. 

“Oh my dear, you’re not planning on killing me are you? What help would i need?” 

Jennie shook her head. “Not for you, for the victim.” 

The elderly woman adjusted herself on her seat and breathed. 

“Im sure they deserved it, she paused, My sister tried to kill a man once; He was her husband’s friend. Everyone called her a murder, a mad woman and they put her in a psychiatric hospital where she spent a lot of her years. No one asked why she did it but what woman could have had the nerve to do such thing they said.”

This next pause lasted too long so Jennie sat her now empty glass on the table and asked.

“Why did she do it?” 

The sigh that followed was deep, full of grief and perhaps guilt. “He treated her like a pig and threatened to kill her.”

Jennie felt the sorrow of the woman and she told her she was sorry, as if that would change something. She earned a laugh. 

“No need for that dear.” said the old lady. “Revenge has been taken. Someone cut off his head one December night. The police theorized it was gang business but nonetheless my sister never screamed with such joy when i told her during a visit; her eyes sparkled as if life has been regained in her.” The lady stopped a young waiter taking a glass of champagne from the tray and sipping with shaky wrinkled lips.When she set it on the table, she turned to Jennie smiling.

“My sister ran away from the hospital a few days after my visit. She started a new life with a new home and a new identity.” Her gaze was again on the dance floor upon those words. Her expression was full of pride, as if she was the one playing the music from her seat or the one controlling the dancers and their moves. 

A short while was what she needed to speak again. “She is the one hosting the party.” 

The dullness Jennie have felt because of the party and the old lady has faded away. The frustration was replaced by warmth of heart and she felt comfortable with the presence of the elderly woman, comfortable enough that she turned to her and said.

“I’m Jennie.”

A foolish move. One that Jennie never made but tonight seemed different, tonight seemed great and so was the woman. 

“I’m Maude.”

Jennie gazed into the woman’s eyes, studying and as she did so, just from across the room, she caught sight of her target. 

The music had stopped a few moments earlier and he was chatting over a glass of whatever with a few other attenders. Jennie knew she had to move, so she spoke fast but genuine words to her companion. 

“I shall leave now to my own matters. I wish only peace and happiness upon you and your sister.” She got up, only catching a soft mumble of “As do I, to you” before music began once again. 

Her pace quickened as she made her way across the grand hall. She passed Cathy, stealthily retrieving one glove that dangled from her hand before heading towards her destination. 

The young man was a French lord; or rather, his father was a French Lord while he contented with joining the army and owning a few medals he would later wear with great pride at each event he attended. Jennie assumed he had enough charisma stored for social interactions that he easily tricked the ladies falling at his feet into thinking he was charming and polite. 

She smiled at the irony of the reversed roles as she approached the crowd he was enveloped in; tonight she shall charm her way to him and she was sure he, like many before him, will walk blinding into her trap as if she was guiding him to heaven’s gates. 

 

The glove slipped from her slender fingers to find its way into the ground. It got dragged a bit with the cloth of her dress but it reached the Lord’s feet just perfectly for him to notice.

A hand grabbed Jennie’s gently. She turned, making quite the show of twirling, meeting glowing blue eyes and a flash of white crooked teeth. 

“Your glove, miss.” A simple statement but he, as if catching her exaggerated movement earlier, slowed his tone remarkably and bowed his head reciprocally. 

Jennie smiled, allowing the sides of her mouth to stretch comfortably. She was ready to thank him in the most seductive voice she could master but he continued quickly letting go of her.

“Quite the cold hands, maybe you should find that other one.” 

He bent down and picked up the lone cloth. Examining it, he seemed to notice the champagne stains. “Or perhaps, find another pair altogether.” Chuckled he handing it to her.

Jennie extended her hand and took hold of her pathetically dirty possession.

“Merci, Monsieur.” Mumbled she and the young man raised a curious eyebrow.

“French?” He asked.

“I wish.” Scoffed Jennie, letting her hands fall at her side while her companion straightened his back and stepped to the side.

He smiled down at her and Jennie saw the way the act seemed to be quite melodramatic.

“I must say Miss, you have raised my hopes just the slightest.” He crossed his arms behind his back.

Jennie chuckled in a ladylike manner. 

“Have they gone suddenly down, Monsieur?” She made sure to question him in an unmistakably teasing tone while smirking from behind the hand she put over her mouth to hide the quiet laughter. He seemed taken aback. 

“I-“ He stuttered. “You- I apologize, Miss. I didn’t-“ And Jennie laughed a bit more. 

He seemed to spare himself the embarrassment when he noticed her delighted mood and instead, regained some composer. 

“I am Lieutenant Guillaume de La Croix.” He started, bowing a bit. “My father is Lord Frederick.” A smile found its way across his face again as he introduced himself. Jennie wasn't impressed, not by his behavior nor the information that she already knew but all she did was smile back.

“Lisa.” Said she, curtsying.”Lisa daughter of Federico.” And before he could open his rambling mouth, she continued. “A businessman, you may have not heard of him.” 

Guillaume seemed convinced. _Foolish,_ thought Jennie as he looked at her, warmth filling his eyes. She knew the warmth was only the product of the fire of lust that burned in him but she didn't care, for her hands were cold and her mind felt as bored as Jamie the neighborhood boy when his ball was lost. 

They stood in silence for just a moment, until Jennie cut through it.

“You are right, Monsieur De La Croix.” She told him. “I ought to buy another pair.” 

She knew he wouldn’t be stuck into finding a perfect response but she has wished he would be more upfront with his needs. 

“Indeed. But in the current time, may interest I you in a dance that shall surely warm you up just fine.” 

Jennie faked a smile as usual and took the hand he offered. 

Lord De La Croix was a good dancer; that, she could give him. But as she twirled, she noticed he was not the best: the confidence with which he carried himself seemed a bit overwhelming and unattractive and Jennie felt a bit uneasy. 

His hand against her waist, the young Lieutenant pulled her closer and she made an effort to relax. She kept thinking of the time she shall have to herself once the night died which had her muscles stretch comfortably and almost, just almost forget about the harsh fingers studying her lower back or the hot breath that kept hitting her face like a pre-avalanche storm. 

De La Croix was also a broad shouldered man, tall and strong but Jennie didn't care; she found interest in his neck however. Her mind wandered to all the things she could do with it. _Snap it?_ wondered she titling her head bit _, or slit it open?_

Guillaume caught her staring and his lips twitched in what one might call a warm smile but once Jennie had her cold fingers dance their way across the hot flesh, it turned into a devilish smirk.

They sway a bit more and Jennie let her lids rest. The music was soft and she allowed herself to enjoy it before she leaned into his long neck and whispered, lips barely touching his ear. 

“Take me somewhere, Guillaume.” And he did. He took her by the hand and gently pulled her into some hallway. Their footsteps echoed with each sprint, the music faded into the background and their giggles rang. 

Jennie was led into a room of some kind, spacious and well decorated just like everything she had laid her eyes on in the place. There were grand paintings gently hang on the wall and she kept herself from pushing the clingy Lieutenant whom was gently pushing her against the wall, to the side and simply taking her time to admire the art. 

He kissed her jaw, slowly tracing her neck with his lips. Jennie thought they were soft so she let him have his way for a moment for as long as he was the furthest from greedy old men, she didn't feel the _immediate_ need to kill him. 

As he trailed his hand to her waist, Jennie titled her head to the side looking past him. Her vision was blurry for awhile but she supposed a few glasses of champagne and a dance could do that to someone. She squeezed her eyes, focusing, and suddenly noticed a box at the far end of the room; it was too immense to miss and the big label painted on its surface was quite enough for her to recognize it. 

She smirked, thinking of Cathy who was supposed to be looking for it. Guillaume’s face was still buried into her collarbone and she decided to have fun since the job was done way easier than thought. 

Jennie pushed herself against him getting closer to his ear. 

“Are you a good fighter Monsieur De La Croix?” Whispered she for the second time that night, getting the same shiver, although this time he backed away gazing into her, confused as ever. 

Before he could waste more of her time, Jennie punched him straight in the face sending him stumbling backwards with a grunt. If he had fallen over, she would have definitely broke down in deep laughter but much to her annoyance he didn’t and instead took the time to shake his head as if clearing away the sudden pain. 

Wiping his bloody nose, he stared her with an expression both of anger and surprise. 

Jennie only smirked more. “I asked a question, Monsieur, care to answer?” 

The young man didn't move; and when she stepped towards him with confident steps, his hands shot up in defense, fists clenching. 

She punched again and he blocked it so she kicked and his fingers got hold of her leg. 

He found himself hunched forward and Jennie looked down at him. She scoffed, clearly enjoying herself which almost had him gulp. 

In a few seconds, everything was executed perfectly; Jennie punched him once more, her fist making quite the brutal contact with his right cheek and once his head was yanked to the side, she took the sharp pin off of her hair and slit his throat open with it. 

Her movements were of a skilled assassin and the way her small pin knife cut through the flesh had blood spill out violently, staining her dress. 

Guillaume’s eyes were wide open and his mouth hung ajar as he fell to his knees, then to the side and lied as a lifeless corps. Jennie looked at her blood-stained dress then at him and glared, as if he was the one responsible; soon enough though, her delighted mood took a return and she chuckled. “I suppose not then.” She said to herself, answering her previous question. “Fighting must not have been your strongest point, Guillaume De La Croix.”

Jennie looked down and noticed her lone glove from earlier dangling from one of her pockets. She frowned again but not too harshly for it hardly mattered now, and took it out wiping the red stains with it. _Champagne and blood; quite the combination_ , thought she amused at nothing in particular. Once done, she put it back into her pocket and took interest in the box, which was considered the main mission that evening. 

Suddenly, the door burst open and there stood Cathy, breathless and horrified. 

“Found it!” She cried in all seriousness and Jennie laughed. 

“ And so it seems. ” Replied she, crossing her arms. 

Cathy stood at the doorway, catching her breath. “I got… distracted a bit. Turned this place upside down after that.” She looked at Jennie. “Sorry, I suppose.” And Jennie shrugged for she didn't quite care. After all, they found the damned box and anything else hardly was of relevance. 

“Is everything alright?” Came the soft voice of some unknown woman from outside. Jennie stood straighter, ready for everything but Cathy simply turned around and smiled. 

“Sure.” She called, waving at the stranger to come. 

Indeed was it a young woman who walked in but certainly not a stranger to Jennie for she was the one with whom Cathy was shamelessly flirting earlier in the evening. 

“ What is this? ” Asked Jennie, getting annoyed at the wasted time and potential wasted energy of killing the poor guest.

Cathy, having led the girl in and closed the door, replied innocently.

“This is Mary. Mary that is Jennie.” 

“ Hello Mary, how do you do? ” Greeted Jennie nonchalantly and turned to Cathy repeating, a bit impatient. “ What is this? ” 

“She’s harmless.” Was the response she got. “She doesn’t care and is no threat to us.” 

Mary nodded quickly. “I don't care.” She confirmed firmly but cheerfully, and seemed quite proud of herself for it. “I also know most of the matters and business you are involved in.” She added but soon enough realized her tiny mistake. “-but i shan't use anything against you! Cathy here just wanted to be honest and not really hide much from me.” 

Jennie was dumbstruck. “ Cathy! ” She quietly hissed, deep judgment dripping from her tone. 

Mary seemed to also turn to her. “Yes Cathy, I suppose that was quite the foolish move.” Her voice was honest, words genuine and Jennie found herself relieved for the presence of common sense. 

“ See? ” She hissed once again. “ Mary gets it .” 

The woman in question rolled her eyes. 

“ _Mary._ ” She pointed at her. “Is the daughter of one of the most dangerous gang leaders in Europe.” She sighed and walked over a comfortable looking chair sitting slowly. 

Jennie nodded, turning to Mary who looked back with interest. 

“ And I was wondering why you didn't seem to care for pauvre Monsieur De La Croix lying here. ” She looked over him and smirked. _He was fun,_ thought she. 

“French bastard.” Mumbled Mary more to herself than anyone else. “I hated him and his father.” 

Jennie found herself getting impatient again, so she turned to Cathy who, for some unknown reason, was dosing off on the small couch. 

“ Cathy .” Called she. “ Let us take what we need and leave .” Her voice was stern which had the woman’s head slip from the hand she rested it on in a sudden act, startled. 

She nodded upon regaining some sort of strength and got up, heading for the box. 

As she did what was required of her, Mary approached Jennie and stood close but remained safely distant. 

“I have a coach waiting for me. I could get you to your destination unnoticed.” She didn't bother to whisper or even lean in; she seemed rather comfortable talking instead. 

Jennie didn't seem to hold any hatred for Mary but that was nothing special for she didn't hate anyone, she often simply didn't care. Suspicion, however, was a feeling she was familiar with.

“ Why are you here? ” Asked she, a bit bluntly but Mary didn't seem to mind, not the slightest for she smiled warmly as if completely understanding Jennie’s concern. 

“This is not the first time Cathy and I have met.” She started. “We initially, laid eyes on each other one night in London and we knew who the other was, then, except-“ she looked over, smile widening dreamily as if the memory was too pleasant not to enjoy. “Except we fooled around a bit; teasing and all, acting like complete strangers-“ 

“We were bloody good at it.” Interrupted Cathy from across the room, obviously ear dropping, her back turned to them still searching through the box.

Mary nodded, shrugging. “Indeed. It was fun.” She walked over the place, studying her surroundings, she seemed to have more to say and Jennie expected nothing less.

“My father’s name was hard to shrug off and Cathy’s attitude gained her some popularity.” A loud “Oi!” rang and Mary ignored it. “We didn’t care much though, and chose each other’s company over most things but neither of us thought we would meet again let alone this soon.” She sighed pleasantly as she run a finger across an oil painting of a horse hang on the wall; _looks fresh_ , noted Jennie. 

“We both had our hands dirty and we both couldn't care less of everything else so i suppose it was a perfect match.” She stopped all movement and simply stared. Jennie instantly found herself doing the same for the horse seemed interesting enough and Cathy was still busy doing her job. 

The moment ended and Mary sighed, waking Jennie from whatever daydream she was enveloped in.

“I don’t intend on getting involved in your matters but I do want to be of assistance. We are friends after all, aren't we Cathy?” 

Cathy snickered but agreed with a sarcastic “Sure!” 

Jennie didn't find Mary to be an annoyance or an unpleasant acquaintance even; surely she won’t be simply letting her guards down but she supposed she would make an exception; after all, that night she was making a lot of those. 

“ Very well. ” She said finally. “ We shall accept your help, trust must be earned somehow. ” 

Mary almost beamed at her words, but ‘almost’ was an understatement for she particularly squealed with giggles of joy and Jennie stopped herself from shooting her quite the confused look. 

Cathy, who joined them with a bag Jennie supposed was full of documents, chuckled to herself as she watched Mary sprint to the door and peak through the hallway upon opening it.

“It has been the long week, she just seeks some sort of excitement and entertainment.” 

Jennie frowned, as they started to move forward. 

“ Do I look like a clown to you? ” That earned her another quiet laugh.

“Of course not.” Cathy paused to catch her breath. “But she likes you, a lot.” 

They left the room, locking it with a key Jennie has found in Guillaume’s pockets, and headed for the nearest exit that Mary was leading them to. 

“ I thought she liked _you_. ” Whispered Jennie, making sure her voice didn't echo enough to draw attention. Cathy shrugged, adjusting the bag over her shoulder.

“Sure but it’s not the same. She admires your courage and your talent.” 

An eyebrow was raised. “ My talent in manipulating and killing people? ” Asked Jennie almost, just barely amused.

They turned a hallway and stopped upon earning a signal from Mary to do so. She disappeared into a room in a hurry. 

“Her father is a gang leader.” Noted Cathy, putting the bag down and stretching her shoulders. “She perhaps knows about killing people more than anyone else. Each and their world Jennie dearest, and this is hers, ours.” 

Jennie didn't know what to say to that so she remained silent. Cathy was surprisingly wise and calm. _She must have drank a lot,_ thought she crossing her arms and simply waiting.

Voices muffed by the thick walls kept the halls from going completely silent and Jennie, for once, was grateful for Mary’s rambling mouth for she didn't suppose herself able to bear the uncomfortableness of the quiet void. 

 

The door opened and Mary stepped out laughing, a bit too loudly, eyes almost shut from smiling too brightly. 

“Thank you so much Pierre.” She waved a hand around. “You’ve always been quite the lad!” 

Jennie turned to Cathy, who was picking up the bag again. 

“ You both are disgustingly English .” It was said in a huff hid behind a small scoff and Cathy replied instantly as if that kind of teasing happened often and she was always prepared.

“And you are shamelessly American.” 

They proceeded ahead, this time, Cathy walked beside Mary while Jennie followed them a few steps behind.

“Did he find it?” Heard she Cathy whispering.

Mary shook her head. “No, but he promised he’ll look.” She said with a smile which was gladly returned. 

The carriage was spacious, much to Jennie’s delight since they didn't have to attach the bag on the roof or something of that sort; she, after all, took her assignments with great seriousness and didn't like to disappoint. That thought seemed a bit bizarre to Jennie the second it crossed her mind, for it seemed as though she was overly loyal to her employers, blindly loyal that is when she really wasn’t. Jennie liked to treat her job like a country gal would treat her first rabbit pet, gently and carefully but only out of boredom and lack of anything else to do. 

She would have loved for a more purposeful life but odds have not worked in her favor and she contented with what she got. 

She looked out of the window and wondered a bit more, about the reality she had found herself part of and asked no-one but herself if the void she felt would ever find its way to fullness. Jennie frowned at her older self who used to always smile at the thought of a different life, whose imagination wandered fields of possibilities one row upon the other and wished for something different; but what angered her the most was that she almost believed she was capable of a better chance, it was the small ray of hope that filled her that angered her because it was a lie, a lie she fed herself for years. 

Jennie looked over at Cathy and Mary who sat opposite from each other, and she didn't know what to feel. _Another lie_ , whispered her mind in a hiss and she shook her head. 

Perhaps she did feel something but she wasn't sure what to call it or if she was truthfully feeling it all but it was there, that much was certain. 

The two women weren't paying all that attention to one another; Cathy had her arm rested on the bag while simply contemplating anything and everything while Mary’s face was buried in some sort of journal. Although, occasionally they would lock eyes and gaze lovingly at the other before returning to their doings. 

_Happiness is it?_ thought Jennie. Was it happiness she felt for her friend? She wasn't so sure but at least neither paid her much attention and she was grateful. 

The carriage stopped because that’s what carriages were supposed to do eventually and Jennie found herself frowning at that. The end of the journey cut her depressive session short which meant she had to go back to her ordinary life and she didn't like that. 

All three of the young women got down, and while Mary engaged in a conversation with the driver, Cathy handed the bag to John who was waiting for them at the entrance and followed Jennie inside. 

They walked through a few halls but halfway to their destined room, Cathy’s fast pace slowed and she eventually stopped, Jennie found herself doing as such. 

“I’m not going in.” Sighed she, crossing her arms and Jennie fixed with a curious gaze. “You know about the infamous argument and i’m pretty bloody sure she doesn't want to see me.” 

Jennie simply nodded and she could have sworn Cathy smiled in relief. 

But that relief didn't last long. 

“Are you alright Jennie?” Asked she, voice almost too soft for Jennie’s likings.

“ Why wouldn't I be? ” And Cathy shrugged. 

“Don’t know. Was just checking with you.” She sighed again. “I know i shouldn't be sentimental and all but Mary wasn't messing around when she said we were friends… because we are or whatever you want to call it.” She paused, chuckled nervously then looked at Jennie, expression of tiredness but weirdly also of goodness of heart. “The world can be damned, you know? It’s too cruel for me to be-“ 

A loud creak interrupted her. It was a door being brusquely opened but Cathy only paid small attention to it as she proceeded.

“-to be mean and and an idiot. So we’re here of you Jennie because you deserve a lot of things and all the rubbish the world offers isn't one of them.” 

Jennie didn't know what to say so she just stared, like a fool. Her cheeks grew only the slightest, a simple shade of red but it was gone as soon as it appeared. She nodded and Cathy seemed content with such gesture. 

She patted herself suddenly, surely remembering an important matter. 

“While we’re at it, can I have that key, please?” Demanded she and Jennie knew instantly what she was talking about. She reached into her pocket, making sure to push aside her glove and reach for the heavy golden-colored opener. 

Cathy took it and waved it around as she made her way to the door. 

“Might as well put it back or something!” She called from across the hall before leaving. 

 

“Was that Cathy?” Came a deep, stern voice from behind. Jennie turned and nodded. The woman sighed and gestured for her to follow through the room from which she just emerged. 

“Such annoyance she is.” She went around her desk and sat as Jennie took a seat herself on a comfortable looking sofa. “But I respect her…” She paused waving a dismissive hand. “Whatever it is she has.” 

“ Have the papers been recovered safely? ” Asked Jennie and she felt her throat soar from the lack of speech upon the end of the mission. 

The woman nodded. She picked a pen and a few papers gesturing for Jennie to proceed speaking. “Just tell me what happened so I can send the report tomorrow.” 


End file.
